


Pour Some Sugar on Me

by Senora_Luna



Series: 1980s AU [2]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, F/M, Hilarious 80s slang, Porn, Young musicians in the 80s being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 01:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senora_Luna/pseuds/Senora_Luna
Summary: A 1980s AU with Hector and Imelda reuniting after time apart for some good clean 1980s fun.





	Pour Some Sugar on Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madonna](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Madonna).



> Inspired by tumblr user bears-again 1980s AU for Coco ;)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljpwi4daxGA

 

            “You’re lucky we didn’t send the stage up in flames cabron!” Héctor gave a victorious laugh as he retreated to the single mirror in the back hall the club counted as “dressing room” while carefully cradling his electric guitar.

            “Callate,” Ernesto scoffed shoving him out of the way of the mirror as he picked up his can of hairspray from the rim. “Only fire was how bitchin we sounded.” He smirked spraying a fresh coat to his already carefully fluffed curls. Héctor mock choked as usual, clutching his throat and sinking onto the dingy folding chair the management had provided the pair. “Callate! You know it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a little too before we meet the fans, the mop look doesn’t look good up close.” And as he began shifting through his bag for his box of condoms, Héctor scoffed folding his arms as he carefully picked his axe back up.  

            “Bite meeee,” Héctor strummed his guitar in a sing-song as Ernesto made a scowl out of his moustache. “How many times do I have to tell you Imelda and I are-“

            “ _Serious.”_ Ernesto finished rolling his eyes as he patted some of the sweat off his face from the stage lights. “Too bad, I saw a couple chicas making eyes at you in the crowd.”

            “And why would they do that when you’re next to me.” Now he really put his axe away, as though it were his own child, the smearing away a layer of sweat from his face with his leather jacket sleeve.

            “Dios Mios you’ve been transformed…”

            “Que!”

            “What happened to ‘Yo soy muy guapo Rivera, Cual es tu nombre?’, you sound like a Papá- tied down to one chica.” Despite the mocking Héctor only shrugged.

            “Honestly I think I love her.”

            “I couldn’t tell…maybe sigh listening to your walkman and wistfully play with your stupid rubix cube another ten times. It’s like being on tour with an old man”  

            “You shouldn’t complain, she inspired my music when she’s around. I haven’t written songs this fast since I was a teenager.”

            “True you perform better when you’re getting laid…”

            “Or maybe it’s just love Ernesto.”

            “Gag me with a spoon enough.” And Héctor broke into a series of snickers-being sappy and pining tended to kill the mood for their performances so Ernesto did the best he could to keep Héctor’s mind on more productive things. Especially as they neared the end of their four week mini-tour he had spent so much time pining away in phone booths with a dreamy look as he twirled the cord around his finger talking to his novia.

“At least fix your eyeliner, you look like a racoon.” Héctor scoffed again ready with another snarky remark until he was cut off, “what if there’s a producer in the crowd?” And at this reminder Héctor frowned then pushed himself to his feet fanning his tight jacket in both hands. Despite wearing nothing underneath it, he was covered in sweat and knew if he removed it, it would be hassle to get back on.

            “Give me some room then,” And from the back pocket of his leather pants he pulled out a black eyeliner pencil and began to line his brown eyes once more. Ernesto said it always complimented his face because otherwise he had the most oversized ‘doe eyes’ he’d ever seen. It didn’t matter much to him as  he observed Ernesto adding splashes of glitter to his cheeks, unlike his partner he wasn’t searching to get laid by a groupie tonight. “Easy on the glitter Bowie you’re going to get some in my hair.”

            “Oh the horror, there’s some color in your outfit.”

            “I don’t mind color when we’re not performing.” Héctor added adjusting the tiny skull earring in his lobe from it’s crooked position. “But pink doesn’t match the hard guitarist look.” The contrast in the pair was hilarious at times, Ernesto preferred much more color, neons, and glamour to his stage persona-always donning a sequined jacket over his neutral top and jeans. Whereas Héctor preferred the laid back style of his leather jacket, absent a shirt because the stage was hot enough as is, and leather pants and knee high boots which complimented his lanky thin frame, as opposed to making him appear like a toothpick next to Ernesto’s muscle.

“I know this is a _shock_ but there are other colors than pink.”

“I love pink-“

“I know; everyone knows, you’re either a parrot or a bat.” Ernesto grumbled at his amigo’s painful lack of fashion instincts which had been embarrassingly spread after a rather candid interview Héctor gave on their local radio station. Héctor chuckled mischievously to himself and gave a bemused laugh as Ernesto stuff two condoms into his pocket.

“Ay someone’s feeling _really_ lucky tonight.”

“I have a feeling I will need two is all.” With a final fluff of his hair Ernesto waved Héctor along to the main entrance of the club, where their meager fan base was pilling up before the beginning of the next music set. Ernesto reached over ruffling his hair neater until Héctor swiped his hand away.

“I’ll say a prayer to Santa Maria for your sexual health.” Then they shoved open the black heavy doors into the strong smell of alcohol, sweat, and hairspray. Bodies were piled before the door as blurry shapes of sequins and neon. The dim lights of the club created a cascade of twinkling earrings and body glitter as the first definable feature of each patron before even reaching their faces.

            Héctor had barely stepped onto the dance floor when he felt a force collide with him that nearly sent him back onto the door-had he not dug the low heel of his boot into the concrete. Arms were around his neck, and tugged him downward that he took hold of the weight of the person so they didn’t both topple over-regaining momentum in a spin.

            “Woah! I have a girlfriend-,” Héctor had barely begun setting the overexuberant fan down only for his eyes to practically drop from his skull they grew so wide.

            “Good to know you’re loyal,” Imelda, _his_ Imelda, here! A smile was in her eyes of triumph and he couldn’t help himself but look at her delightedly. Immediately he picked her back up in another twirl.

            “What are you doing here! This is radical!” The glee was rising up in body, revitalizing him completely after their exhausted travels. Imelda took hold of his bony cheeks kissing him. Without any awareness for the rest of the waiting crowd he clutched her tightly savoring her warm lips, the delicious smell of her perfume, completely uncaring if her bright cherry lipstick smeared across him. Finally she pulled away to answer him adjusting the lapels of his studded jacket and calling over the loud synth music of the next set.

            “I may have blackmailed a certain partner of yours into telling me which club you were in tonight!” And Héctor put it together remembering seeing Ernesto on his ‘portable brick’, as Héctor dubbed it, the cellular phone before the show began. Across the room the man was eagerly signing some overexcited girls t-shirts. They had realized from Imelda’s tactfully claiming kiss the guitarist was not going to give them anymore attention than this woman.

            “I thought you had exams!” He too called over the music.

“I finished early!”

“And your Papá?!”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him” And the twinkle in her eye was another side to her that made his heart leap. Suddenly it dawned on him just what she was wearing and the tension of his tight pants increased slightly.

Her lips were lined in a deep red, then filled in a bright inviting cherry. She had applied her mascara so thickly her lashes were long and sweeping with every blink. Above them bringing out the depth of her twinkling brown eyes she’d painted her lids with a shimmering violet that transitioned into gold at the corners. And all coming together with her high cheekbones pattered with a sparkly neon red blush. Like usual her deep brown-black hair was large, and blown out with fluffy teased curls and he adored the large oval cat-eye earrings dangling on either side of her face.

Daring to let his eyes fall he tried not to keep them fixated on her outfit. Unlike her usual school or work uniforms she wore a shimmering strapless tube top around her breast with a zipper down the middle that begged to be tugged. The curves of her waist and wide hips were accentuated by the show of her bare stomach and then perhaps the tightest pink mini skirt he had ever beheld which left his hands aching to caress those hips. It dawned on him how much he was starring because her smirk was spreading and he became suddenly aware at how his lips were parted in awe. Finally he managed to speak.

“You..have pink!”

“Your favorite!”

“Y-yeah! Um, wow! You look…” but his words fell away to the loud music as he struggled for coherency.

“We should dance!”  Imelda declared grabbing him by the belt of his leather jacket and yanking him along to the blinking floor beneath a shimmering disco ball. The synthizer and loud drums of the set had the room already swaying in excitement and dancing a mixture of salsa and modern moves which brought their bodies as close as possible. Neither cared much or were capable of more conversation in the loud music.

Unlike her usual conservative ways when in Santa Cecilia dancing at the local cantina, here she suddenly pulled him against her, placing his hand on her hip while she added her own to his shoulder for an amalgamation of the modern and salsa as their free hands laced together. Por Dios, he _had_ missed her. A month was too long to be away from her at this point. Even with her high heeled boots she still only reached the bottom of his chin-however it didn’t seem to be deterring her as the main drumline chorus of them music began and she swayed her hips side to side against his pelvis at the beat.

By the time Héctor had caught up to her actions he quickly slid his hand to her back dipping her expertly, as she let out a laugh of alarm. It had taken multiple near spills in the Cantina for her to trust he would not drop her when dancing together, especially when they had a drink or two. However by now, in their many months of dating, she had learned to trust him-especially when he snapped her back up against him flush against his chest. The tube top slid down slightly, pressing up the line of her cleavage which simmered in the glittering lights from the sheen of sweat building. Perceptive as ever she noticed his wandering gaze and strung up a leg around his waist as they followed the other couples around them.

Héctor scrambled to catch her thigh, biting his lip as he recalled just how soft and supple they were in his hands as they began a rhythm of swaying their pelvis in tune to the music-rolling their bodies to the beat. There was the pleasant surprise of cross netted stockings up her leg as he struggled to keep his hand from wandering further up her skirt. It would be so easy in the darkness and sweaty bodies, no one would see them-and hell even if they did it is not as if they would be recognized. Still he restrained himself-Imelda was not a loose groupie who wanted a quick one night stand with him. She was more than happy for their time alone-but PDA was a very carefully regulated dance with her. Instead he ran his other hand up the back of her neck brushing her feathered hair away to lean in for a kiss.

With his ear at her mouth she suddenly nipped at it not cutting away from their dancing. The hand on her hip clutched her closer-a bit too close-she was sure to feel the expanding protrusion in his tight trousers. Then suddenly, a delicious burst of lightening and heat-was she purposefully grinding? He stilled his own dancing a brief moment, allowing her to lead their movements, and sucked in a breath unmistakably feeling her press her own pelvis against his groin while her underwear trailed his thigh.

“Missed me a lot hm!” There was such a triumph in her voice as she called into his ear still at her level. Even if there hadn’t been pounding music and lights around them, he would have still stammered for a perfect answer this was so unexpected. But she didn’t wait for one and continued grinding in the crowded anonymity of the dance floor. Damn was it _good_. Maybe he was dreaming, perhaps he had fallen off of the dingy stage and was sitting in the folding chair with a concussion while Ernesto tried to shake him out it. When her fingers ran up his bare exposed chest, tangling in the wires of his chest hair with a soft tug to pull him closer-he closed his eyes with a shudder. A concussion couldn’t possibly be this good for all the dance injuries he’d experienced.

“You’re going to make me stain my favorite pants…” Héctor managed to rasp into her ear. A month apart left him much more sensitive that he would have liked-and no amount of masturbation to the thought of her in hotel bathrooms would cure that. Slowly, testing the waters of her bold hips his hand trailed underneath her taut skirt-delicately gracing the hem of her panties. The response he received set his blood a boil as she tugged on his jacket collar to whisper in his ear.

“Only fair! You’re already making me ruin my underwear…feel it.” And he nearly lost it to those words running a careful finger over the fabric, feeling a large damp spot once he had reached the middle. Hopelessly, he dropped his head into her shoulder, feeling his entire body convulse with longing at the touch.

“Did you come here to kill me?”

“I missed you!” And she tugged on his little zig zag cut goatee to get his attention. The look of lust in her eyes was unmistakable and he had to gather his wits. “I’d love some alone time with you if you aren’t too popular!” Nodding enthusiastically he let her go taking her hand like an eager child as they half-jogged across the dance floor to the back hall. There wasn’t much privacy in a place like this at all-he considered taking her back to their van-but that was too risky since he could easily guess Ernesto was there with a fan if not by now then soon.

Suddenly there was a tug on his arm, and she was leading him instead. To the shabby, dimly lit corridor of the bathrooms. Glancing around, Imelda pushed open the women’s and yanked him inside quickly slamming the door to the blasting music. The look of mischief on her face and triumph was almost hilarious as she quickly locked the door to the single room toilet. This was more of a stunt he would pull not her-it seemed his ‘can-do’ attitude had rubbed off on her ridged principles. A quick glance around their surroundings showed a graffiti covered, toilet paper littered, and cracked sink excuse of a bathroom, but the grime only intensified their smiles at the sheer irony of their reunion.

Imelda reclined against the door where they could still hear the faint sounds of the synth band-but finally understand one another without shouting. Above her was a scribbled graffiti which read “For a Good time call Juanita”. For a moment they stared at one another chuckling, and wiping the sweat off their faces. Casually reclining an arm above her Héctor offered his trademark sexy (in reality goofy) smirk which showed off his golden tooth that had come from an embarrassing skateboard incident.

“So, you missed me?”

“You’re not allowed to spread that around and make me sound like some sappy Betty.” Imelda pursed her lips looking away, but a smile was tugging at her lips even as she folded her arms.

“Looking at that outfit ‘sappy’ does not come to mind,” and the hunger in his voice was not even attempted to be hidden.

“Well, I thought it would be fun to try a new look since no one here knows our parents.” Imelda twirled a finger up his bare chest, giving a tiny yank of his chest hair to pull him down to her height for a kiss. Héctor chuckled a moment running his hands over her bare shoulders with delight.

“I can’t believe you’re really here-in a disgusting bathroom with me…”

“Well after our last phone call singing together sounded too good a chance to pass up…and I found myself longing more than I knew how to handle…”She practically purred running her hand from his chest down to his skull shaped belt buckle. A sharp intake of air made his mid-section hitch, and she could see the outline of faint muscles that peeked out only because he was so thin.

“I can’t believe you got Ernesto to agree-you’re incredible…”

“I’m persuasive.” The pride in her eyes was even more intoxicating and he couldn’t resist scooping her face in his hands to lean down and devour her in a kiss. Cherry lip balm, a hint of cola, and obviously toothpaste because hygiene always came first for Imelda. Those fantasies hadn’t done justice of just how lovely her tongue felt in his mouth, just how soft her hair was curled around his fingers, and how delicious the sweat on her neck could taste when the kiss had to come to an end less they suffocate.

“You’re-damn-fucking-incredible,” Héctor muttered between kisses, his hands found the small of her back and pulling her from the door against his sweaty chest. The warmth radiated through Imelda, her bare stomach against his belt as the cool medal contrasted the soft heat of his chest hair tickling her shoulders and breast. With a click she began to undo his belt, eager to feel the hardness pulsing against her pelvis.

“Don’t you forget it.” And a moment later she had his semi-hard cock released from the tight confounds of his leather pants as he let out a delicious little moan. For all the black, and skulls he wore, the man remained one of the most authentically sensitive and vocal she’d ever known.

“How…how could I-wow you’re, so much better at this than ai remember.”it dawned on him just how starved for her company he was when her black painted nails strummed at his foreskin, increasing the sweat down his chest.

“So I left you with mediocre memories?” In a miserable taunting punishment she let him go and slid away from the door wandering over to the graffiti lined sink, drumming her nails across the porcelain. Héctor turned after her hopelessly, walking extremely awkward in his exposed state.

“I did not say _that!”_ The yelp which escaped was a mixture of pleading and indignant. Imelda let out a coy little laugh leaning against the sink which made her cat-eye earrings twinkle. Smiling, she wove a beckoning finger, granting the permission he awaited to touch her again. However he did not immediately take her in his arms against but instead twirled a few of his ring covered, fingers in her loose permed curls. Like her own, his nails were coated in black polish, some of it chipping away from haphazard reapplying before shows. “I meant I kept going over memories of us…when I was uh…alone, and they don’t compare to this.”

“Ay, are you referring to sinning? You can say masturbation no one is going to hear us.” The blush that ran up to his ears and awkward glance to the ceiling graffiti made her nearly snort-giggle. “Padre Luis is not here. I also ruined a few pairs of panties in your absence.” Héctor  lit up like a match lifting a smug brow.

And here I thought I was the only one going loco over missing you.”

“ _As if_! Who says I was loco-maybe I was just horny?” Independent and stubborn as her reputation foretold and he’d seen often during their relationship. With an exasperated roll of his eyes he gave her a half smirk.

“Qué va! Ay you must be _really_ horny you came 50 kilometers…I can’t believe you were _so_ revolting you couldn’t find _anyone_ to give you some sugar and had to come _all_ the way to me.” As he spoke he crawled his fingers over her shimmering cheeks, then down the chocker hugging her neck. For a moment she bit her lip, Héctor was such a mild mannered and agreeable man, that his lack of fear of her and biting honesty often put one off guard. “Maybe you were just…un _poco_ loco to see me?” Imelda pursed her lips trying not to smile but the growing flush on her was his victory.

“Un poco…”

“I thought so!” And before he could get out another word of teasing she yanked him by the goatee down to her mouth for another kiss. Little moans escaped between lips, and hands were roaming desperate to feel and remember all that had been much too far away. With their bodies together once again, Imelda could feel the pulsations and little jumps of his bare growing erection against the warm skin of her stomach. It began a pant in the both of them, Imelda hardly able to believe the depravity of their situation for moment-but with him it barely felt they were doing anything wrong. Somehow Héctor knew exactly how to make her feel safe-even in a stained, tiny, broken, and foreign bathroom.

While his hips arched lightly against her stomach, his lips searched for her pleasure running down her neck, then tickling her exposed shoulders with a deep throaty chuckles. Imelda gave a tiny squeak when his hands hoisted her to sit on the rim of the sink to better kiss at her cleavage then over the tube top. For a moment he wondered if he had made a mistake when she pulled his head away.

“Imel-“ But all doubts were washed away as she swiftly unzipped the tube top allowing her breasts to spill free, flushed with sweat and begging for his attention. “Oh.” And with another tug of his head she returned him to his place at her chest, as his kisses began to lavish each nipple with the same vicious hunger he had her mouth. It took only seconds of his curling tongue to bring each dark brown tip to a point, as she reclined against the dirty sink mirror with harsher moans.

“Mmf,” Héctor lifted his eyes to the moan, looking at her heavily colored eyelids fluttering. “Go to third base…por favor,” And upon the sink she spread her thighs apart around him, that her skirt rode up about her waist exposing her crumpled underwear. Héctor paused a brief moment to remind himself ejaculating right now would totally kill the mood. Instead he admired despite her provocative outfit, she was still in her same casual, standard panties; high waisted, cotton, practical dark blue (to avoid stains), with bring neon trim along the edges. The most ‘provocative’ part was the deep dark wet spot running across the length of the line of fabric which covered her center.

“Damn…por dios,” And dancing his long fingers to drag the fabric to the side, he let out a soft hiss, “You’re soaked…” he panted as his index and middle finger dipped in the pool that had gathered between her folds.

“You…look good.” Came her casual reply, as she turned her flushed cheek to the cooler temperature of the mirror. But it was only for a second. Frantically, she straightened up as he granted her a shockwave of pleasure up the core of her stomach. With more skill than she wanted to grant him, he’d used her own wetness to lube his thumb for little swipes up her clit which forced her to let out a small half gasping scream and dig her fingers into the leather sleeves covering his arms.

“Only good?”

“Fine-hot-you look hot!” She half screamed convulsing forward against his shoulder, and arching her hips into his hand in a plea for more. The sounds made his cock quiver against her leg, and it only amplified the tense pleasure he was igniting in her. Groaning he turned his head to her ear being sure not to cut himself on her earring.

“So do you…”

“I _want you.”_ Imelda’s voice had reached the deep raspy need he had only heard a handful of times that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Si so do I-,”

“I want you _inside me Héctor.”_ The words stilled his hand with a shuddering sharp inhale. Before he found his voice, she had already pulled back her legs from his waist to peel her underwear off completely-or at least until it hung around her ankle out of the way. Aching for his contact she yanked him close again by wrapping her calves about his bony hips until his erection was brushing against her own wet pubic hair. “I missed you-I missed fucking you, I wanted you the moment I saw you tonight,” Each pant was accompanied by a little wiggle of her hips making him slide through the wetness-stimulating them both in a maddening way that was so close and far from exactly what they needed.

Héctor could barely process his own thoughts-his lower half was thinking for him and all it wanted was to keep rolling his hips through her wet sex until one of them slipped him inside. The heat was intoxicating, the sounds of their panting and lack of caution was intoxicating. They could scream as loud as they wanted, they could take their time, if someone knocked on the door what could they do? Nothing but knock and whine at the lock. It took every miserable ounce of willpower for him to step back and put hand on his forehead to steady himself.

“Wait-wait-wait…”

“Que…”She half whined, until a bit of concern met her face. “Que?” She asked more patiently.

“We can’t, I don’t have a condom-,” Oh stupid, stupid, STUPID, Ernesto. That was the whole two condoms stick was about. Part of him wanted to zip up his pants and go beat the living daylights out of the man for not telling him he knew Imelda was coming. A loud part of his brain screamed ‘who cares do it anyway’, and staring at her wanting on the sink’s edge was making it nearly impossible to ignore. “Mierda…” He swore looking up to the ceiling in dismay until he heard Imelda’s scoff wondering if she would be angry until she calmed down enough to be logical again.

“ _As if.”_ And reaching into her boot she pulled out a line of shiny wrappers of individually wrapped condoms. “Like I would come all this way unprepared, do you _know_ me?” Héctor spun around and without a word scooped her face into his hands. How he adored her, this tiny, anal, demanding, and always over-prepared woman.

“Yer-ahmaze-ning” Came his muffled words into her mouth as she pulled away giggling and tearing off a condom from the line as she tucked the excess in her boot once more.

“I know-put it on,” She panted brushing her feathered hair out of her face. With a smirk he took it from her with his teeth, “Héctor Rivera put it on!” But again she couldn’t help but laugh, somehow he always found a way to make her laugh even when she didn’t think herself capable of it. Losing her patience she snatched it back with a chuckle tearing open the foil and extracting the flimsy little latex to dress him.

“Come here,” came his breathy laugh. And as she rolled on the condom he scooped her legs over his elbows earning another chuckle out of her. The moment Imelda had finished her task she gave a soft tug on his erection once more, guiding him toward flushed and open labia. No more jokes were needed now as their combined effort brought their bodies together as he sank in with very little resistance but delicious pressure and groans.

“Por dios-mierda-,” Héctor cursed into her ear with a gasp, grunting loudly when her hands slide down his backside and pushed him deeper with a tight squeeze. “Ay-so much better than I can ever imagine...Imelda…”

“ _Fuck, Héctor_ ” The divine moan that went into his ear rivaled the pleasure he felt when performing with his guitar. And slowly he began to move, in and out carefully-feeling her body tug at him, the slickness of their bodies creating a delicious suction that made them each wince at the sound. Guided by her hungry hands and hips, they began a quick, frantic, pace-each cursing and crying out as loud as they pleased to the pleasure. Struggling for his words Héctor took hold of the sink for leverage as he reclined his gasping mouth to her ear.

“Worth-the-trip?” Each word coming between the clink of his belt buckle against the sink.

“Si!”

“Ay mi vida- tu coño me está matando…” Héctor practically whimpered when her nails dug into his behind, clutching him deep within her for several long seconds in intervals, then letting him go. The only response was her tongue running the underside of his ear, and her teeth catching his skull earring in a tiny little tug. Inspired by her feistiness he ran his thumb across her lips for a wet kiss (and she of course got in a few bites), then dropped it down between her legs right above where he pumped in and out of her. It had taken several attempts of their first times together to learn exactly what she liked in bed-but oh he quickly found she wasn’t shy to tell him. And he felt a great pride when he learned enough to act on her pleasures without having to be told.

“Fuck!” Imelda let out a scream when he added vicious rough shaking of his thumb to the bottom of her clit, moving it even faster than his hips could drive into her. He’d landed the pressure and speed right this time, since her hands jumped up to his shoulders as she leaned forward into his body. Their bare chests rubbed together-his chest hair tickling and stimulating her nipples, while her cheek pressed into his collar bone. The flimsy mirror shook against the wall from its lazy mounting from the force of bodies slapping tightly together.

“Si Imelda,” He encouraged hotly into her ear, “Si es para ti…” Colors brighter than her wardrobe burst beneath her eyes when the low rumble of his voice came into her ears. The scream she let out was so raw and guttural his hips nearly seized as he scooped an arm around her waist to support them both. It seemed impossible he brought those sounds to her lips, how could he be so good to her, when she was the one making him feel he’d found heaven prematurely. He held out as long as he could rocking into her to bring down her climax but the moment he felt her hot gasps tickling his neck, and saw the hazy look of drunken orgasm in her eyes meet his he lost himself inside her.

“Si…yo quiero…” Came her breathy voice, and he burst helplessly at her command, clinging her body against him in a mangled curse of words.

“Mierda-dios…-Te amo-mierda-Imelda!” Everything was in a haze of sticky warm peace. Skin together, breaths together, bodies together. When his hips stopped convulsing he vaguely felt her nails running down the back of his neck, moving away his long hair. Slowly, painfully, he withdrew from her using his free hand to yank off the condom and toss it in the toilet behind them. The other arm kept her close, relishing the little sharp breaths she took to regain her barring. “You’re so organized…I’m so thankful you remembered the condom…” Came a half slur as he pressed a messy kiss on her flushed cheek. But Imelda didn’t lift her head to his surprise. He had expected the filth of the bathroom to propel her out of it as soon as the arousal wore off.

“You said…’te amo’?” And Héctor froze feeling his stomach flip in the worst stage fright he’d known since adolescence. Indeed he had said that, hadn’t he? Drifting his eyes to face, he beheld the smudged eyeliner and lipstick, the curious arch of her eyebrows, and satiated peace in her brown eyes. Once more his heart swelled as he ran his hand under the tap of the sink and began to clean the lines of mascara over her cheeks.

“I…um…had hoped to tell you in a more romantic setting but…si…te amo.”

“Te amo.” She repeated, and he paused cleaning her face to look at her bewildered. Imelda seemed to instantly regret her decision looking away with a flush.

“Oh no no no no-you said it-,”

“Well-,”

“Te amo,” He grabbed her and kissed her sweating face, “Te amo,” then her lips,”Te amo-te amo-te amo-te amo-,” And she nearly fell back into the bowl of the sink.

“I heard you-this bathroom is not sanitary!”

“I don’t care we’re in love!”

“Héctor let me out of the sink!”

“Anything for _mi amor,”_ And stepping back he helped her jump down as she pulled down her skirt with a little flush.  

“Don’t you _dare_ tell Ernesto.”

“The sex or the love?”

“Héctor!” Despite her protest she was beaming, the same as him, as she zipped up her tube top.

“Hm you certainly had a lot of condoms in your shoe-feeling ambitious?” And with a look of spite to his teasing, she picked up her underwear off her shoe and shoved them down into the pocket of his jacket.

“Depends how much you decide to tease me…” Their eyes lingered on one another, the energy tactile and warmth running between them, “…mi amor.” Before he could fall apart to his sappiness again, she took his hand with a tug. “Put your pito away I want to sing karaoke.”

“Ay, radical, you are just radical.”


End file.
